


Sentiment

by Tyloric



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb is too he's just less willing to admit it, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Developing Relationship, During Episode 16, Feel-good, Fix-It of Sorts, Fjord is a hopeless romantic, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Side Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 11:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14519466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyloric/pseuds/Tyloric
Summary: In a moment of reprieve, Caleb and Fjord take a moment to clear the air and also better explore what exactly it is that's going on between them. Set during the long rest before The Mighty Nein return to the Gentleman.“You had another dream,” Caleb decides, not quite a question. He wants to give Fjord a chance to deny it. That’s his right, after all.Fjord tenses slightly, hesitating, before letting out a heavy sigh. “Yeah,” he confirms eventually. “I did."





	Sentiment

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing doesn't get nearly the attention it deserves.
> 
> I was toying with an alternate writing style and I'm not one-hundred percent satisfied with how it turned out. But the end product as a whole is worth sharing, I feel. Though if you come back to this story later and there have been changes that's me attempting to clean things up. (EDIT: All clean. Much happier with it now. Rewrote a couple of blurbs.)
> 
> Enjoy! It was still a fun write.

Caleb stirs when Fjord jerks up but doesn’t quite wake. Generally he’s a particularly light sleeper, but the events of yesterday - puzzles, wisps, ghosts, and giant gelatinous cubes - have left him wearier than usual. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t immediately come to consciousness, especially sleeping on the stone floor of what is effectively a tomb.

His eyes do eventually crack open (it was inevitable, all things considered) noticing almost immediately that Fjord is no longer where he’d fallen asleep several hours prior. Frowning, he sits up and looks around drowsily, summoning a single globual of light in his palm when he gets tired of trying to see through the darkness, keeping it dim enough to avoid waking the other sleeping forms near him.

Finding that the half-orc is not in the immediate vicinity, he stands and considers his options. Further into the chamber past the supposedly deactivated traps or the impromptu entrance towards the underground river. He doesn’t suppose Fjord would head further upstairs to the room overhead considering how that had ended last time (with him in a pit of old corpses). Caleb, self proclaimed coward that he is, chooses to head up the stairs and out to the river. Grabbing his cloak off the floor where he’d rolled it into a ball to use as a pseudo pillow, he slings it over his shoulders and begins stepping carefully over his companions.

“Caleb?” Comes Nott’s tired voice, still half asleep, causing him to turn around from where he stands at the base of the stairs. “Where are you going?” 

“Not far,” he assures her in a soothing tone that is reserved only for her (and occasionally a certain half-orc). “Fjord just wandered off. Just going to check on him.” 

“Alright,” she responds uncertainty, “Just be careful.” 

“When am I not?”

Nott fixes him with a _look_ but otherwise doesn’t bother to respond, choosing instead to lie back down to try and go back to sleep. 

Caleb stifles a laugh, shakes his head, and heads up. 

Though it is a relatively short distance to the entrance, climbing the stairs still leaves him gasping a bit, the events of the day still leaving his limbs feeling heavier than usual. Sustaining the small orb of light floating in the palm of his hand takes more concentration that it ought. But Caleb is used to operating on little sleep and energy, so it’s nothing he can’t handle. 

He finds that he’s chosen the correct path when he spots Fjord sitting cross legged on the ground just outside the entrance, staring out at the river, a lit torch propped between a conveniently located formation of rocks nearby. There is a chill in the cavern that the structure (tomb) itself seems to ward off. He moves the the orb of light so that it’s hovering just off to his side and pulls his cloak tighter around himself before stepping forward. 

Fjord must hear his approach because he twists around slightly. He breathes out a sigh of relief and quirks a small smile in his direction when he sees it’s him. “Howdy,” he says.

Caleb nods a greeting, expression guarded, as it usually is. Though there is a hint of a smile if one was to look closely enough. His step falters slightly when he notices the trickle of blood on the right side of Fjord’s lips, but his otherwise doesn’t outwardly react. 

“May I join you?” He asks instead. 

“Of course,” Fjord replies, sounding as tired as Caleb feels. “You’re always welcome, darlin’.”

Caleb ignores the sudden heat in his cheeks at the nickname, sitting down next to the other man so that they’re close but not quite side by side. He’s still not quite sure where the two of them stand in terms of personal space: he’s never been very good at navigating things like friendship or… whatever they are. 

“You’re up late,” Caleb tells him, for lack of anything better to say.

Fjord huffs a laugh. “It’s really not that late. We just packed it in early ‘s all.”

The wizard gives him an unimpressed look. “You know what I mean.” 

The half-orc’s shoulders sag slightly. “Yeah, yeah. I get ya.” 

They sit there in a silence that’s not quite uncomfortable, but it's at very least stuffy, both of them keeping their gazes on the running water. Caleb knows there is something off (as if it's hard to tell) but he doesn’t want to pry. He’s not even particularly certain where the line between questioning and prying is.

“You had another dream,” he decides, not quite a question. He wants to give Fjord a chance to deny it. That’s his right, after all. 

Fjord tenses slightly, hesitating, before letting out a heavy sigh. “Yeah,” he confirms eventually. “I did.” He doesn’t offer any more than that. 

Caleb waits a beat before inquiring further when Fjord doesn’t say anything else . “A bad one?” 

He shakes his head. “Naw, not really. Confusing more than anythin’.” The wizard hums his acknowledgement, thinking back to the dream he’d had with the beacon. He understands that feeling.

There is another stretch where neither of them says anything, and when it begins to skirt the edge of awkward Caleb decides one of them is going to have to speak up.

“Look at me,” Caleb says suddenly, surprising himself. “Please,” he adds as an afterthought, not wanting to sound like an ass. 

Fjord does so with eyebrows raised. Calebe hesitates for a moment, wondering if he’s over reaching before raising his hand to brush at the corner of Fjord’s mouth with his thumb in an attempt to wipe the dried blood away. It does come up for the most part, repeating the motion only to get away the stray flakes that are left behind.

Satisfied, he means to remove his hand when Fjord moves to catch it with his own. Startled, Caleb looks up at Fjord's face, their eyes meeting. There is no anger or even irritation in his expression, only a soft fondness. He presses Caleb’s knuckles against his lips, kisses them lightly, and smiles, looking genuinely pleased. He lowers their hands but doesn’t let it go, instead tightening his grip. 

The action leaves Caleb flustered enough that his concentration on maintaining the orb of light wavers, causing it to flicker and ultimately fade out of existence. Caleb can feel himself blushing furiously, idly wondering if Fjord can tell in the low light of the torch.

He clears his throat and averts his gaze to somewhere over Fjord’s shoulder in an attempt to regain some of his lost composure. “There was a bit of blood,” he says lamely by way of explanation, mentally kicking himself for sounding so… well, lame. 

Fjord goes from surprised to amused in the span of a second. “You don’t ever need an excuse to touch me, darlin’.” 

He wonders to himself in Fjord meant for that to sound as dirty as it did to Caleb.

Still, the situation leaves him feeling uncharacteristically bold. He threads their fingers together and scoots over to fill the space between them so that their sides are flush against one another. He then even tilts his head to rest on Fjord’s shoulder, because he figures he might as well go all the way.

A rumble comes from deep in Fjord’s chest, and for a brief moment Caleb wonders if he's crossed a line, before the half-orc starts stroking the back of his hand with his thumb. _He’s purring like a cat,_ Caleb thinks suddenly and chuckles before he can think better of it.

“Somethin’ funny?” Fjord asks. 

Caleb’s heart is pounding so hard he's scared Fjord can hear it. He shakes his head. “Nothing at all.”

He feels Fjord shrug half-heartedly. “If you say so.” 

There silence that follows this time is not only comfortable, but familiar (but also somehow completely new). As if the two of them being pressed together like this is the most natural thing in the world, the only sound in the chamber being that of rushing water. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Caleb asks, feeling like he ought to have sooner. In his defence, he became a tad distracted. 

“Yeah, I am. I just needed some fresh air.”

Caleb snorts.

“Fresher,” Fjord amends. 

“So long as nothing’s wrong.” 

Fjord angles himself to press a kiss on top of Caleb’s head, whose hair is probably filthy. It still manages to make Caleb’s heart start trying to beat out of his chest again. Fjord offers affection so freely that it always manages to leave him feeling uncentered. Not in an unpleasant way, just… different. 

He squeezes Caleb’s hand. “Well, there is something.” 

“What is it?” He prompts when Fjord doesn’t elaborate.

“It’s about what happened back at the mansion. When you tried to take that scroll.” 

“Ah,” Caleb recalls. “That.” It was hard to forget, after all. He knew this would come up sooner or later. 

“I was out of line. I’m sorry," Fjord apologizes regretfully. Truly, it breaks Caleb's heart to hear him sound like that.

The wizard shrugs. “I don’t hold it against you.” 

“You… don’t?” Fjord asks warily. He can practically feel the man’s gaze on him.

“It was a tense situation. I understand why you reacted like that. I… didn’t respond very well either. Though you were pointing your sword at me.” 

“I know,” Fjord says miserably. 

“I’m not mad,” Caleb assures him, lifting his head to look at Fjord. “Really.”

The corner of Fjord’s lip curls up. “Really?”

 _“Really,”_ Caleb affirms.

Fjord holds his gaze for a long moment before smiling brightly, the tension he’s been holding in his shoulders melting away. “Okay then.” Caleb rolls his eyes and replaces his head back on Fjord’s shoulder. 

They sit there for an indeterminate amount of time - Caleb stops paying attention after a while, choosing instead to focus on the man next to him. The warmth of their bodies pressed together, the rise and fall of Fjord’s chest.

Eventually though, he begins to nod off and takes that as their cue. “We really ought to head back.”

“Yeah,” Fjord agrees after a moment but doesn’t move. Caleb rolls his eyes and stands up, using the fact that they’re holding hands to his advantage to pull Fjord up with him. “Alright, alright,” he laughs. “I’m comin’.” He grabs the torch in one hand, still holding Caleb’s in the other, snuffing it out with the a snap of his arm when Caleb summons his lights. 

They walk back like that, not saying anything, hands grasped tightly together. 

When they reach the base of the stairs, stepping back over their companions to reach where they both had been resting before, Fjord mumbles something about it being hard to get comfortable on the stone floor anyway. They sit, Caleb lost in thought for a moment. He unslings his cloak off his shoulders, rolling it back up how he’d had it before when he’d been lying on it and hands it to Fjord. 

Fjord looks at it for a moment. “What about you?” He whispers.

Caleb gestures again for him to take it. “Just trust me,” he whispers back. 

The half-orc gives him an odd look before taking it and lying down with it behind his head, shifting a bit until he’s relatively comfortable. He looks up at Caleb, eyebrow raised questioningly. 

Instead of responding, Caleb just lies down next to Fjord, resting his head in the crook of the man’s shoulder, draping an arm across his abdomen. Fjord tenses, clearly taken aback before he relaxes, chuckling softly. 

“Well alright then,” he drawls. “I can live with this.” 

Caleb hums his agreement.

“Good night, Fjord.”

“G’night, darlin’.”

**Author's Note:**

> Caleb is deceptively difficult to write.


End file.
